The timing couldn’t have been better. It is entirely fitting that on the eve of the Rio Olympics a sports film — Budhia Singh: Born To Run — on an Indian child marathoner, should hit the screens. What’s more significant, however, is that Budhia Singh manages to break away from a whole lot of principle arcs and formulae even while remaining squarely within the conventions of a typical Indian sports film.
It is not weighed down by the burden of nationalism; in fact it inverts and questions it. It is not quite about winning for India. Then there is the ‘triumph of the underdog’ cliche. Yes there is an underprivileged child at the heart of the film but we don’t wallow in the squalor of his slum life in Bhubaneshwar, nor do we celebrate his rise up from the bottom of the heap. It is about how India can actually crush its own hope for medals, trample a champion on the margins of the society than help him blossom. In fact it also makes us debate whether it is entirely ethical in dreaming of a champion in a mere five year old?
For a change, it’s also good not to have Mumbai and Delhi as the centre of action in a Hindi film. A new filmmaker from Orissa comes up with an assured debut—nicely paced, well crafted and entirely engaging. A film that is rooted in the state, brings alive the sights, sounds, lingos, colours and flavours of Orissa, right down to the defining dessert—chhena poda—and yet manages to speak to all.
Yes the film is on the wonder boy from Orissa, Budhia Singh, but it would not be quite right to describe it as a biopic. It is not about that talented little boy but the circus that got built around him. The boy, who wets his bed, can’t even tie his shoelaces and can hardly comprehend the significance of long distance running. There is a candidness and honesty with which he talks about it when asked by the school teacher on what he did in the morning: “hage aur bhage (went to the washroom and ran)”. For him running is as fundamental as the daily ablutions. He is not in it for the country, the money, the prestige. He is in it because somebody has spotted the winner in him and is egging him on—his coach Biranchi Das.
Like another good sports film, Paan Singh Tomar, the world of Budhia is riddled with complexities, at the heart of which is Biranchi himself. The ambitious man drives a five year old round the bend relentlessly, pushes him to the limits yet cares enough to get him a new pair of shoes, feeds him almonds and apples and cries silently on getting separated from him. Is he stealing away Budhia’s childhood by turning him into a “performing monkey”? Or is he preparing him for a champion’s life ahead? Is he exploiting him for the media or using Budhia to fight for his own just cause?
Much rests on Manoj Bajpayee’s seemingly effortless performance as the judo coach who trains 22 orphans in his hostel and also runs a dhaba and a salon to make ends meet. Never once does Bajpayee appear to act and finely balances out Biranchi—neither a hero, nor a villain, just a human being with flaws and warts. There is a fine line that separates ambition from obsession, a visionary from an opportunist and Bajpayee’s Biranchi stands very well on it. The best bit about the film is how it looks at these grey zones (right down to the rapaciousness of the real mother) without being judgmental.
Mayur Patole is perfectly cast as Budhia. Those feet and inches separating him and Bajpayee in their heights make them a perfect visual foil for each other. There’s an indescribable togetherness in the shots of them on the run: a slip of a guy on a 70 odd km long Puri-Bhubaneshwar road that is melting in the scorching heat with the man he implicitly trusts by his side. Odd couple; and such an affecting one at that.
The relationship of Biranchi with his wife, Gita, the world they have built around them, is just as fascinating. Here’s a woman who has left her own career behind (hinted at). Who looks after the orphans even as she craves for a child of her own. Who feels the twinge of jealousy for the Indian-American filmmaker documenting their lives. Who can sense the perils in her husband’s blindness to everything other than Budhia’s marathon. There’s much that gets communicated by Shruti Marathe as Gita through her silent gaze and a mere twitch of the fluid face. The motley group of orphans, their camaraderie, competitiveness, the rivalries and jealousies also reach out just as much.
It’s the officialdom and politicians that get painted with broad brushstrokes, turned almost caricature like. The Child Welfare Committee gets seen as entirely villainous especially in view of the intrigue underlining Biranchi’s eventual fate. Towards the end the film sheds all its complexity and the tenor becomes simplistic and emotional. The message coming out eventually is that a young athlete’s career should not have been thwarted, that he shouldn’t have been deprived of a father figure. Indeed it is utterly ridiculous that someone who was once seen as the medal hope for 2016 Olympics should still be under a ban from running. But the human toll of running 48 marathons back then at the tender age of five? I am still debating with myself on that, still not convinced enough to take either side of the argument.
